


nebulous distances

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff, Javi being a fake journalist for no reason, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A quick fluffy fix-it fic I wrote in one sitting (unbeta'd and all, sorry). I think I just needed to get this out of my system.
Relationships: Javier Fernández/Other(s), Javier Fernández/Yuzuru Hanyu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	nebulous distances

It was strange, the effect that increased time-space distances had on a relationship.  
Where their daily interactions used to revolve around specific events, a seemingly infinite mosaic of everyday occurrences – “How did your training go this morning?” or “Want to grab lunch?” or “I’m thinking maybe switch out toe and sal would be better”, always working towards the next competition, counting down the days and the hours – now events seemed to matter less and less, the harsh passage of time robbing them of their meaning.

Before, whenever Javier saw Yuzuru, he would automatically situate him in the timeline they both belonged in; there was always an inescapable awareness of the goals they were working towards, the destination of their next flight, the current state of their respective physical conditions.. Everything had fit neatly into their shared sequence of events, and that’s how Javier used to make sense of their lives. After his retirement, their timelines had diverged, Yuzuru’s events becoming completely unfixed from his own. Throughout his life, dates and details had tended to slip away from Javier all too easily, and it was difficult enough for him to keep on top of his own commitments. It wasn’t like he had a backup copy of Yuzuru’s schedule in the back of his mind, the way Yuzuru had seemed to have of his, sometimes even sending him reminder texts out of the blue. 

Now, Javier didn’t really know what Yuzuru was up to – of course he watched all his competitions, unfailingly sending messages to congratulate or comfort, after – but on any regular day, he would have no idea of Yuzuru’s whereabouts or schedule. The side effect of this was that Yuzuru as a person had became a more nebulous entity in his mind, somehow only existing in the brief moments they met, no longer tied to a well-defined sequence of events. It was hard to explain. Javier had tried, once, after Autumn Classic, and it hadn’t gone terribly well.

‘You know when there are like relatives you only see once a year, during Christmas? Or maybe New Year for you. And it almost feels like they only exist on that day, in your house, because you never see them otherwise. You don’t know what they do every other day of the year.’  
They had been sitting on a tiny plastic bench backstage, a newly planted medal glimmering over Yuzuru’s white training jacket, his cheeks blooming with the quiet contentment that had grown out of the big rush of a long-awaited win. Yuzuru had been looking at Javier with bright eyes, nodding intently.  
‘And it’s not like you don’t care about them, but.. When they tell you stuff about their new job, or a break-up, or graduating, you can’t fully understand it because to you, their life outside that moment could just as well be on another planet. Because your lives aren’t directly connected. Even when you should feel happy for them, or sad, it’s hard to feel anything.’  
Javier had noticed a downward shift in Yuzuru’s expression, a glint of indeterminate sadness in his eyes, and rushed to get to his main point before he would get the wrong idea: ‘That’s not - I was so proud of you today, you know that. I always am. That hasn’t changed. What I’m trying to say is that when I stopped seeing you almost every day, the way I think of you is different.. So much time passes between every time we see each other, it’s like everything we talked about the last time has already moved on its own. Things change and problems are solved. The things that are on your mind now will be all different the next time I see you. And I think that helps me see you better, as you are.’  
Yuzuru had blinked a few times, processing, resting his chin in his slender hand.  
“I’m not really sure if I understand. Maybe things change, but most problems do not just solve by themselves. Must work hard. I think seeing Javi really help me with this.”  
After that conversation, Javier felt vaguely guilty, like he should have tried harder to maintain a fixed place for Yuzuru in his life. Maybe it was treacherous, allowing Yuzuru to fall out of focus, maybe it was a slippery slope towards losing him altogether – as a colleague, comrade, friend. Could that really happen, even after everything they had shared? 

Javier wasn’t really convinced it could, as he went on with his new life, surprising himself with his ability to keep on top of things. He had always thought of himself as a highly disorganised person, a characterisation reinforced by everyone close to him. Javier didn’t know of any other skater who would have managed to forget their own skates for a competition. But even with that long history of minor misfortunes caused by his absent-mindedness, Javier suddenly found himself soaring, succeeding at what had always been his dream. He was finally out there on Spanish ice, guiding cheeky little children who tripped and stumbled and eventually flew across the ice, attending all sorts of media gatherings, seeing the incredible words ‘sold out’ printed over posters of his show. 

There had been times in Javier’s life when he had been convinced he was born unlucky, almost swallowed whole by the bitterness of having things fall apart again and again and again even as he continued working himself to the bone. Somehow, something had gone right in the end, completely unburdening Javier of the misfortune that had been his constant companion for so many years. It was definitely easier to be happy in Madrid than in Toronto, Javier thought. Surrounded by so many familiar faces and encompassed by the warmth of his mother tongue, with the bitter cold of Canadian winters only a distant memory, he felt as if he had returned to the way he was always supposed to be. 

‘I’m so happy to see you smile so much these days’, his girlfriend said, eyes soft as she poured him more coffee. It was a late breakfast after a night spent celebrating the engagement of a childhood friend, composed of greasy and sweet comfort foods from his teenage years. On the walk from one bar to another, everyone else had been complaining about the chill in the October air, but for Javier, it had felt unseasonably warm. He was still in the process of settling back to his old skin, this pace of life – sometimes he had flashes of anxiety about perhaps having outgrown them permanently, but he shook those feelings right off. He was smiling more than before – wasn’t that proof that things were looking up?   
‘I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed in October’, Javier agreed, truthfully. Maybe he felt a strange jab in his chest, like his body was somehow reacting against his words, but it didn’t linger. 

They broke up a couple of weeks later – ‘I don’t feel the spark there anymore’, she said, and Javier was about to protest but found he had no conviction; it was impossible to argue. Just as his smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, the subsequent period of sadness felt almost feigned, like a veil he could tear off when the time was right. It was getting colder, but only slightly.

Javier still felt grateful for the way things were going, although most of the time, he barely had time to think about how he felt. He hardly had time to think about Yuzuru, either, their distance growing with each passing week. Just as Javier had thought before, though, the distance only made Yuzuru’s presence in his mind softer, a fond but slightly faded complex of memories. It made him feel wistful, like he almost wanted to reach out and feel Yuzuru’s face, trace his outlines to separate them from the vague domain of nostalgia, to make sure he was still real. But at the same time, the process wasn’t too painful to push aside, so Javier continued filling his days with events, eyes stubbornly turned forward. News about Yuzuru did briefly catch his attention – first victory at Skate Canada, a fully expected but still deeply satisfying triumph at NHK – filling his heart with a quiet warmth. 

‘Congratulations, Yuzu, I am so proud of you’, he would text, emphasising his sincerity with strings of little red hearts. ‘Thank you Javi’, Yuzuru would respond, matter-of-fact. The absence of any emojis gave Javi some pause, since it was unusual – previously, Yuzuru had always littered his texts with heaps of them, no matter how mundane (‘Did Javi remember to pack own training pants this time? (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)’, ‘Remember tomorrow practice move to 1PM ₍₍ (ง ˙ω˙)ว ⁾⁾’, that kind of thing). Javier guessed Yuzuru just wanted to keep things a bit more formal now that they weren’t training mates anymore – his role in Yuzuru’s life must have shifted, just as Yuzuru’s had in his. He just wasn’t sure what to make of this shift. They had texted more frequently, before, but now things seemed past the point of sending silly selfies, memes or other chitchat just for the sake of it. In the end, Javier settled on feeling satisfied that Yuzuru had taken the time to respond at all. 

Yuzuru must have received dozens of texts after each competition, regardless of the outcome, yet Javier was absolutely certain that he painstakingly wrote each response individually, instead of copypasting the same thank-you message to everyone (as Javier himself had sometimes done – although there were some people he would always write a personal response for). Well, taking the time to thank people for messages of congratulations after a victory was hardly unpleasant, as far as routine tasks went. Responding to well-wishers after things had gone wrong was much more so, something Javier remembered with a quiet shudder. He had always hated having to look back on his failures. Often he had point-blank refused to look at his phone after a competition gone awry, never getting back to the people whose attempts at comforting him would only have made him feel far worse. 

In that regard, too, Yuzuru had always seemed completely different – instead of hiding himself away in a blanket of quiet comforts, he insisted on immediately confronting his mistakes head on, watching videos of falls and stumbles for hours on end, making a point of reading any and all messages and articles he could get his hands on. It wasn’t what Javier would call wallowing, since Yuzuru didn’t seem to be driven by self-pity. Instead, it was as though he genuinely believed that ceaselessly drilling himself about every single step he had gotten wrong would help him avoid those mistakes the next time. Javier saw a myriad of problems with this approach, but it seemed to be working for Yuzuru, and it had never been his place to seriously question his training mate’s methods. 

So when Javier set out to send Yuzuru a message after the Grand Prix Final, he did so in the knowledge that Yuzuru would absorb it unflinchingly. Because of this, he felt a responsibility to choose his words very carefully, but it was a tall order – how could he express what he really wanted to say without resorting to platitudes? There was a grey lump of anger and worry in the pit of his stomach, frustration about the scoring and concern about Yuzuru’s mental state, but he didn’t know how to convey it. It didn’t really feel possible to make things any better with just a text message. After most painful defeats of the past, Javier had been there, and his actions had always spoken much louder than his words. To be entirely honest, his verbal communication with Yuzuru had never been completely seamless. After exhilarating wins and disheartening losses alike, Javier had always ended up with Yuzuru in his arms, whatever emotions they were feeling conveyed through touch. Sometimes the emotions ended up highly complicated, like when Yuzuru was processing both his second Olympic win and Javier’s retirement at the same time. Even then, there was no need for long conversations – just holding Yuzuru close, feeling his breath hitching and gradually becoming regulated again, had been enough. That casual, unpretentious physical closeness had been the most important thing in their relationship. Words – they often seemed to just stand in the way.   
‘I wish I could give you a hug’, Javier wrote, in the end. ‘There’s a lot I want to say but I wish I could say it when I see you.’   
He never got a response.

Well, ‘never’ being a limited timeframe of a couple of weeks – that’s how long it took for Javier to become convinced this was a problem he needed to solve. 

After the brilliant Otonal at the Japanese Nationals, Javier sent another message – ‘that was incredible!’, with a handful of snowflake emojis. There was, again, no response. This was becoming a pattern. 

Javier had thought the growing distance between them was something he had come to terms with, or at least was in the process of coming to terms with. But, he realised, he wasn’t ready to become the kind of person Yuzuru just didn’t text back. Maybe it was silly, but the conspicous disappearance of emojis from Yuzuru’s messages had hurt – and the absence of responses hurt even more. Because this was Yuzuru, who always did things meticulously and would never just forget to respond – Javier couldn’t even give him the benefit of doubt he would certainly have given himself in this situation – there must have been a reason for this. Javier expected it was nothing good. He also reasoned he most likely wouldn’t be able to resolve this in words, as excessive reliance on them hadn’t worked out that well so far. 

So Javier found himself listening to the rattling of steel wings high above the Eurasian continent, trying to sleep and failing. He wasn’t entirely sure what was the plan here. He had managed to receive last-minute media accreditation from JSF the day before the free skate, claiming he would do some kind of a write-up for the Spanish fed’s blog (a complete lie; he supposed he would need to produce something to avoid awkward enquiries later). They would most likely have accepted any excuse. The JSF may have been rigid under most circumstances, but they were also happy to cater to anyone with name recognition, ever eager for good publicity. Javier couldn’t really care less about that – having become rather disillusioned with the ISU and most national federations during his own competitive career, he had recently focused his energies on getting things right in the Spanish federation, happily ignoring most of the rest. What he wanted to do was to make things right with Yuzuru. He had asked the JSF to not tell anyone of his accreditation, lest Yuzuru heard about it – he definitely didn’t want to impose on his friend in the middle of a competition. To be honest, Javier’s timing was completely off for covering the competition in any meaningful way, anyway. He landed in Haneda just a couple of hours before the free skate was scheduled to begin, feeling jet lagged, dazed and certainly in no condition to do any media activities. He checked into his hotel near Yoyogi instead, sat down on the bed, and felt a sudden wave of anxiety wash over him. 

‘What the hell am I even doing here?’ he thought, fighting the physical discomforts of nausea and exhaustion as well as an increasing sense of uncertainty about his decision to come here.  
‘I don’t know if he wants to see me at all, if there is any point to this – are we even friends, now? - And I’m so tired, I must look terrible, hardly fit for a reunion with a stray dog’ – on and on it went, the cycle of doubts and insecurities in his mind. In the end, Javier knocked himself out with worrying, the pressure in his mind giving way to sleep. He woke up in a cold sweat a few hours later, opening the TV. 

Although Javier understood very little Japanese, he had seen the kanji of Shoma’s and Yuzuru’s names enough times to grasp the situation. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing that Yuzuru had stumbled this much – to come second after such a commanding short. The TV station was broadcasting an interview with Yuzuru, whose eyes had the sheen of unshed tears. Javier was glad he could not understand the words that were being said. He took a deep breath and thought about what to do. He considered sending another text to Yuzuru, but decided against it – it hadn’t worked previously, why would it now, and he was finally close enough to reach out beyond words. He quickly changed his sleep-rumpled shirt into a tidy, navy blue one from his case, washed his face and ran out. 

Javier felt embarrassed to request his press pass after the actual competition part of the competition was already over, but the staff member in charge said nothing. In fact, she simply smiled fondly at Javier, seemingly star-struck.   
‘I’m so sorry, I was delayed by other commitments.. I will just do some quick interviews backstage’, Javier said, feeling the need to explain himself a little bit. ‘To make some new content for the Spanish fed’s website’.   
‘Do whatever you need to do’, the staff member said, nodding and smiling, as she placed the press card in a lanyard and handed it to Javier.   
‘Can you tell me where Yuzu – um, Mr. Hanyu’s dressing room is?’, Javier asked, realising that the building was way too vast to find his way around the backstage by himself, as well as that he didn’t really care to put up any more pretenses about being there for other people.   
‘I’m not really supposed to, but since it’s you and not a typical media person, I think it’s OK.’

So Javier found himself standing outside the firmly closed door of Yuzuru’s dressing room, trying to muster up the courage to knock. It was at the end of a long, quiet corridor – the staff member had quickly pointed her in the right direction and tiptoed off.  
Javier took a deep breath. What was he so nervous for, anyway? Somehow it felt like his sanity had been eroding rapidly in these last couple of weeks. If this was really a chain reaction set off by Yuzuru simply not responding to his text, did that mean Javier had actually gone off the rails? Surely this wasn’t normal behaviour. Was it really the pain of the recent break-up being displaced onto something else? Javier couldn’t figure it out, and before he could make sense of his thoughts, the door was opened on him.

This up close, it was clear that Yuzuru had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked small – hunched in defeat.  
‘I could hear you thinking, outside’, Yuzuru said in a shaky voice, standing in the doorway.  
‘That’s funny, because I couldn’t hear you crying’, Javier said, sincerely, ‘although it’s clear you were.’  
Yuzuru’s mouth twisted, like he was about to start crying again.  
‘I’m sorry’, Javier said. ‘That’s what I came here to say –‘  
‘Sorry for what?’ Yuzuru asked, curious.  
‘I thought you were angry – or disappointed in me.’  
‘Why?’  
Still holding the door open, Yuzuru gestured for Javier to step inside, and closed the door behind them.   
‘You wouldn’t answer my texts’, Javier said, aware that the words sounded childish and small when said out loud.   
Yuzuru was quiet, standing under the dim warm light of the tiny dressing room. It was almost empty, with only a bottle of hairspray by the mirror and Yuzuru’s suitcase in the corner. It seemed to be a temporary arrangement, Yuzuru having his own dressing room at all.   
‘It’s not that I was angry at you. Maybe disappointed. A little. But more disappointed in myself’, he said, in a small voice. ‘A lot of stuff happened this past months. Didn’t really want to talk about it.’  
Javier nodded. He understood.   
‘Can I give you a hug now?’   
Yuzuru looked surprised, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears again. Unable to speak without starting to cry again, he just nodded vigorously. Javier closed his arms around Yuzuru, feeling the warmth of his body, the sharp edges of his shoulderblades under layers of soft clothing.  
‘I think you’ve lost some weight’, Javier said softly, nuzzling Yuzuru’s hair. ‘I think you need to rest up and eat a lot. Recover your strength. You’ll have it again. You’ll be stronger than anyone in no time at all’, he said in a low voice. Although he really meant what he was saying, every single word, it felt like the syllables only really fulfilled their meaning when combined with the touch. Yuzuru sniffled and buried his face in Javier’s shirt.   
‘You don’t have to say anything’, Javier continued. ‘You know what, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m actually here as a media person – I have a pass and everything. I made a last minute decision to come here and somehow thought the most sensible thing is to just ask if I can get media accreditation. Well, it worked, but now I’m supposed to interview someone. I guess you were my target, but I don’t think I can very well interview such a small tearful creature – can’t get much anything out of you except for sniffles, it seems.’  
Yuzuru laughed against Javier’s shirt while still crying.  
‘Even worse, you’re just making my new shirt soaking wet. I’ll make you pay for the dry cleaning.’   
‘’S okay’, Yuzuru whispered, and Javier could feel a smile emanating from him.  
They just stood like that for a while, holding each other close. After a while, Yuzuru quieted down, and Javier took a step back to get a better look at his face.   
‘It’s been hard, right?’ he asked, and Yuzuru nodded.  
‘Lots of things’, he said.  
‘We don’t need to talk about it now. Maybe later. You know, I’ve also had the craziest year. After retirement, everything’s been going so fast – you might think things slow down, you become old and cranky, but it’s been quite the opposite for me.. I’ve been so busy. But you know, I think I realised I’m making myself busy to not think about some things-‘   
Even though Javier had not planned on saying this, as he spoke, he realised he was telling the undiluted truth.  
‘I missed you so much. That’s why I’m here. I just needed to see you. And, most importantly, I needed to hold you like this. I’m so worried about you, and I just want to make sure you’re okay – I think I love you.’  
Yuzuru made a small gasping sound at that, and froze for a second, only to tighten his grip around Javier.   
‘Me too’, he said in a small voice, still buried in Javier’s shirt. A brief moment later, Yuzuru disentangled himself from Javier only to straighten himself up, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. It was a sloppy, salty kiss, but still the best Javier had ever had.

‘I don’t think I can write this up in an interview’, Javier said a while later, as they were a gasping heap on the floor, still breathless from all the kissing.   
‘Nobody would ever believe me.’  
‘Definitely not’, Yuzuru agreed. ‘We must make fake interview instead.’  
‘What kind of questions do you suggest?’   
Yuzuru pretended to think very hard, raising a finger on his lips. Javier loved seeing him smile, slowly coming back to himself. Of course the defeat was still there to process, weighing heavily on Yuzuru’s shoulders, but it seemed Javier had been able to distract him for a while – a good sign, especially with his extremely poor track record this season.  
‘Maybe “why is Javier so good at kissing”’.  
‘No, that’s exactly the kind of question we are supposed to avoid. I see you’ve gone all silly now. We need to try again tomorrow.’  
‘Maybe you can interview Shun-kun instead.’   
‘That’s an excellent idea, you know. I do really need to get something done tomorrow.’  
There was a sly look in Yuzuru’s eyes. He had already texted his mother, informing her that he would be coming back by himself later; she must have been worried, but they respected each other’s decisions.  
‘Maybe there is something you needing to get done today.’  
‘Are you trying to make a dirty joke?’  
‘Yes, but it’s not a joke.’   
Javier laughed and swooped down to give Yuzuru another kiss. It was such a strange moment, the sadness of unexpected defeat and the joy of a sudden closeness co-existing in the same small space of this dingy dressing room.  
‘Lucky you for having a dressing room all to yourself. To seduce tall dark strangers in.’  
‘You are not stranger. And I not doing a very good job seducing today.’  
‘To be fair, you’re right, but luckily you’ve already managed to seduce me a very long time ago.’   
There were some difficult times still ahead, to be sure – Javier could see the dark shadows under Yuzuru’s eyes and the flashes of sadness and anxiety on his face, features suddenly distorting in pain, as his mind was processing the shock of recent events. But surely, surely, he could make things a little bit better now, just by being here. Javier didn’t know how things were going to be, but now that he knew how it felt to almost let Yuzuru slip away completely – to let the distance of time and space become too great – he knew it was an experiment never to be repeated.


End file.
